


42nd Batch

by Cyberrat



Series: Fic Batches [42]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Detroit: Become Human (Video Game), Overwatch (Video Game), The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Batches, Choking, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, F/M, Femdom, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Object Insertion, Parent/Child Incest, Service Bottom, Slut Shaming, Virginity Kink, Voice Kink, beastiality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:41:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 17,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28007118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyberrat/pseuds/Cyberrat
Summary: ch.1 Shimadacest | ch.2 Shimadacest | ch.3 Shimadacest | ch.4 Sombra/Reaper | ch.5 McCree/Hanzo | ch.6 McCree/Hanzo | ch.7 Geralt/Ciri | ch.8 Hank/Connor | ch.9 Reaper/Soldier76 | ch.10 Bruce/Jason | ch.11 Geralt/Roach | ch.12 Reaper/Soldier76 | ch.13 Genji/Hanzo (Shimadacest) | ch.14 Lúcio/Baptiste
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Genji Shimada/Hanzo Shimada, Genji Shimada/Hanzo Shimada/Sojiro Shimada, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Roach, Hank Anderson/Connor, Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne, Jean-Baptiste Augustin/Lúcio Correia dos Santos, Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada, Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Sombra | Olivia Colomar
Series: Fic Batches [42]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1268996
Comments: 4
Kudos: 89





	1. Shimadacest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shimadacest – (Part 1/3) object insertion; dirty talk; brain washing; exhibitionism/voyeurism – Genji finally is walking in the exact perimeters Sojiro has laid out to him during the last intervention. It is time to step things up and start his training proper.
> 
> Prequel: B41F4  
> Sequel: B42F2

Sojiro slightly lowers Hanzo’s leg so he can see Genji better as he stands in the middle of his father’s bedroom, watching his older brother get fucked. Hanzo is trying to silence himself by biting into one of Sojiro’s expensive pillows, but with every long, luxurious slide of his father’s cock into his body, he shudders and groans into his gag.

It is easy to hit Hanzo’s weak spots when fucking him on his side; everything seems to just line up perfectly for Sojiro to grind his cock into all those sweet and special places.

He slides in again, feeling Hanzo’s shoulder’s shudder as he arches his back some, his toes curling in the air.

Genji is watching it with fevered eyes. Watching all of it, in fact. He looks like he is about to bite his tongue bloody but he has not said a peep since stepping into the room and quietly closing the door behind him.

Sojiro feels… triumphant. Genji has not yet made it through his allotted time, but he has a feeling that this time’s the charm. Their last intervention seems to have had a lasting impression on his unruly little sparrow… he is behaving exemplary for once, albeit his face is burning hot as if he had imbibed too much. He can barely keep his eyes off of his brother, which is… fine for now.

Sojiro has been priming him for it, after all; dangling Hanzo in front of him like a particularly succulent treat in front of a starving dog. Hanzo is his end all be all goal, and Sojiro will keep it that way for as long as possible.

As long as is needed.

“Undress,” Sojiro orders, voice calm; not letting on how good Hanzo’s silky insides feel squeezing down on his cock. Keeping it nice and cushioned in the long moments where Sojiro just rests inside him before _allowing_ him another thrust.

Genji blinks slowly like he has trouble understanding the order. The corner of his mouth twitches – then he obeys like a good little soldier. Sojiro watches with ill-concealed greed as his youngest son reveals himself to him.

Genji’s muscles are not quite as defined as Hanzo’s due to his lack of discipline, but he is an undoubtedly beautiful young man. His precious children.

Genji pauses for but a moment before pulling his pants and underwear down in one, his cock bouncing up comically once the tip is no longer tangled in his shorts’ elastic. It’s a nice size; pretty like the rest of him.

Sojiro just knows Hanzo will enjoy it _thoroughly_.

“Very good.”

There is a sweaty sheen to Genji’s face now that makes him look sick. Almost possessed.

Sojiro lets him stand there, openly staring; looking him up and down and making no secret out of staring at his cock; the heavy hang of his sac underneath. He digs his fingers deeper into Hanzo’s hamstring, hips giving a pointedly hard thrust that has his son gurgling into the pillow he’s got clamped between his teeth and is drooling into.

“You will do nicely, Genji,” Sojiro says slowly after a pause he lets drag out just to watch Genji’s reaction to Hanzo; the expansion of his chest as he takes in a sharp breath; the bob of his cock as it twitches, a bit of wetness glistening at the dark tip. Genji’s glazed eyes sluggishly move back to him, watching. Listening.

“You’re almost there. Soon you can do your duty. Help Hanzo in unfolding his true potential…” His mouth twitches. He lifts Hanzo’s leg again, higher this time so Genji has an unobstructed view of his father’s cock slowly – excruciatingly slow – pull out of Hanzo’s swollen, buttery soft hole. When just his tip remains inside the warm clutch, he slides back in. Hanzo shudders, his leg kicking weakly when his father’s cock drags against his swollen walls.

Genji is staring, mouth slack.

“Sparrow.” Sojiro’s voice has Genji flinching. The feverish flush from his face is crawling down into his chest. “There are items lain out on the chest. Take the collar. Put it on.”

Genji blinks slowly again, his gaze travelling to the chest at the end of the bed. Sojiro has put an assortment of items on top of it and from the twitch of Genji’s brow he has no idea what they are doing there.

Sojiro is expecting Genji to start arguing now but after a moment he starts walking, trembling fingers curling around a collar that has been lying in between the objects. He slides it through his hands, staring at it, then slowly wraps it around his throat.

Oh… so they’re _this_ far already, are they? Part of him had not anticipated Genji coming to heel so… thoroughly. Though, he ruminates while watching one of his sons as he fucks the other, there will be more missteps along the way. Genji has run wild for too long.

“Come here. You may kneel at our feet.”

Genji groans softly as if the order causes him physical pain. Still, he follows suit, crawling onto the end of the bed, his eyes on Hanzo; his slack face, his dark, swollen cock, his hole stretched around their father’s dick. He doesn’t notice how Sojiro reaches behind himself to grab the leash he had sitting there rolled up into a neat little pile. Only when Sojiro smoothly slides out of Hanzo and lowers his leg does he finally look up.

There’s a bit of alarm on his face when the leash is clipped into the collar.

“Shhh… You are doing very well, my little sparrow. You don’t want to do anything… rash, do you? And lose all the progress you have made?”

Genji is shaking his head frantically, an edge of desperation to it that has Sojiro hide his smirk in the whiskers of his beard. Simultaneously he can hear Hanzo sobbing into the pillow. He glances at him briefly to see his body shuddering, hips twisted so he can barely rut his cock against his father’s silk sheets while presenting them with his swollen, red hole.

Sojiro almost chuckles. He could always count on Hanzo to make a slut out of himself…

“Very good. The leash will help you. Or rather, it will help _me_ help you.” He curls the end of it around his fist until it is nearly taut. “You may sit there. _Right_ there. Yes. You may _not_ touch him. Not now. I will tell you when and _where_ you are allowed when the time comes. For now, you may simply sit and watch. And listen to what I have to tell you.”

Sojiro’s gaze lowers to Genji’s cock. It is hard enough to arch from his body desperately. He can see the pulse of the fat vein running along the underside of it. He reaches out with his free hand, fingertips sliding from the very base of Genji’s cock up to his swollen tip. It is the first time he has touched his younger son like this. It is electrifying; he can see that Genji feels like this as well, his cheeks darkening in color, breath hitching, eyes wide as they snap from Hanzo to his father.

Sojiro’s eyelids lower somewhat.

“Good. I have your attention. Give me that bottle gourd and then listen up good.”


	2. Shimadacest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shimadacest – (Part 2/3) small mention of underage; exhibitionism/voyeurism; object insertion; brain washing; dirty talk – it continues
> 
> Prequel: B42F1  
> Sequel: B42F3

“I have already told you how tending to Hanzo is not a boon you are giving him. At least that is not the sole purpose. Tending to Hanzo’s needs is more than that. It is tending to the family’s needs. To fulfill your end of the bargain that you have made upon your birth. You do not want to be ungrateful, do you, little sparrow? No? Very good.”

As he spoke, he had wrapped Genji’s leash around his wrist in order to keep his hands free as he worked. Genji’s mouth is slack once more, staring at his brother and looking like he would say ‘yes’ to just about anything and everything Sojiro would propose now. Good.

Sojiro grabs Hanzo’s upper leg and pushes it towards the slut’s chest, then grips his cheek and spreads his ass open so Genji can see everything in excruciating, minute detail. When he brings the bottle gourd toward Hanzo’s loose, wet entrance, he can hear Genji’s breath hitch.

He is catching on.

“Hanzo is not without his own faults, Genji. But he has learned to work with them. He has learned to adapt them into a stunning method of subjugation that has brought honor and fame to the family.” He gently cards fingers through Hanzo’s hair, brushing the sweaty strands away from his face to give him no place to hide before the stunned, greedy gaze of his little brother. He tucks them behind Hanzo’s ear, then returns to what he has been doing – fitting the weird shape of the bottle into Hanzo just to show Genji how far he can stretch. How willing he is to let his father do _anything_ he wants to him because he knows it will end in something good.

Genji is breathing fast, near panting, his hands clenched in a white-knuckled grip in the sheets of the bed as he watches and, presumably, listens.

“I do not expect perfection from you either, my sparrow. What I expect from you is to form your weak points into assets. Your… penchant to sow your seed into every half-fertile gash can be something of a boon, yes? If it is honed and directed into a more constructive direction. Like your brother’s unsatiated body.”

Here he pauses as he pushes the bottle deeper and Hanzo interrupts him with a throaty groan, his body trembling briefly when Sojiro pushes on the bottom of the object and makes him stretch around the fat lower part slowly.

When Sojiro looks up he can see how glassy Genji’s eyes have become staring at what his father is doing to his brother. He frowns, giving a tug to the leash. Genji jerks forward with it, face pulling briefly into a grimace.

“Are you listening, Genji?”

Sojiro’s voice is cooler than before, eyes narrowed as he watches his son. Genji flushes slightly and nods a few times.

“Yeah… yeah… jeez calm down…”

Sojiro clicks his tongue derisively. He glances down to Genji’s cock; it is just as hard and needy as before, the tip flushed even darker still. It looks painful. Good.

“You can touch him,” he starts to say, then has to jerk on the leash again when Genji all but leaps towards Hanzo. When he has his attention again, he says sharply: “His feet.”

“...what?”

“You are allowed to touch his feet. Nothing more. You have not earned anything else yet, Genji.”

He wonders if Genji will finally balk, but after a moment of staring at him angrily, he flushes darker and crawls closer, taking Hanzo’s foot lightly into his hand and using it to press his knee up, opening him further for the object he is getting fucked with. Sojiro lifts a brow and hums in acknowledgment.

A smart move. “Very good.”

Hanzo is panting open mouthed, his lips swollen and wet from biting on them and sucking on the pillow. He is shuddering intermittently, his wet rim visibly clenching every now and then. Sojiro wonders what is going on in that head of his. What he thinks as he is getting shown off by his father like a pony while his brother watches.

“These things can’t happen over night,” Sojiro finally continues, his voice gone deeper and rougher now; a far cry from the analytical tone he had taken earlier. He can’t help but be effected by this all himself. He hasn’t come yet. Part of him wonders how long it will take Genji to come to heel like Hanzo has. When will he be able to hold him down and use his warm little body for his gratification just like he has gotten Hanzo to yield…

“Hanzo has been training for years now. Thankfully, I have become aware of his… tendencies at a… young age.”

At that, Genji’s eyes flick back to him. For once, he has his undivided attention. Sojiro curves one side of his mouth up. Slowly, he pulls on the gourd’s fat bottom, forcing Hanzo’s hole to relax and curl around the slim middle before having it spread again. Neither of them is paying attention to his whimpering; the flush of his body, the curl of his toes.

“You always thought daddy did not know about your fast little humps into pillows and needy little jackrabbiting into your fists, did you? Hmm…”

Genji just stares at him, stunned, but Sojiro does not elaborate further. He slowly pulls the gourd out of Hanzo’s opening, and both of them now stare at his gape; the dark red insides of his body as he is laid out before them with no chance to hide.

“Sparrow. Can you see it?”

Genji has a hand around his cock but he is just holding on, feeling the fever hot shaft against his dry palm. Sojiro lets him.

“See… see what?” he replies quietly. He sounds like he has trouble moving his own tongue. Sojiro slowly twists his hand, gripping the leash he has wrapped around his wrist, and pulls on it to drag Genji closer toward him. By the time he can feel Genji’s fast, confused breaths on his cheek, he can also smell the exciting warm scent of his son’s desperate arousal.

“Can you see how much he needs it?” he whispers into Genji’s ear, free hand hooking two fingers easily into Hanzo’s gape, gently tugging on the rim and sliding along it; feeling how impossibly hot it is from overuse. “Can you see how willing he is to follow my every lead? My every whim? How desperately he needs to be filled and filled and filled all over again just to get his belly full and swollen with seed?”

He can feel Genji pulling subtly against the leash trying to pull away from him, making him only double down on keeping him close. He presses his mouth against Genji’s ear and whispers: “He needs it, Genji. He has always needed it. And while it will never stop… you can make it this infinitely more easier for him.

He has always lusted for you. He has always craved you. He _needs_ you, my little sparrow.”

Slowly, Sojiro finally loosens the leash and Genji pulls back. He looks dazed, staring at Hanzo’s flushed, gasping face, then down at the gape of his hole. His cock jerks, Sojiro notes smugly.

They were close now. So very close.

“Sparrow. Give me my sword.”


	3. Shimadacest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shimadacest – (Part 3/3) voyeurism/exhibitionism; object insertion; brain washing; dirty talk – Genji finally is in line.
> 
> Prequel: B42F2  
> Sequel: B43F1

Genji looks worried when he carefully offers Sojiro his sword on the palms of his hands, but he has not protested against it.

He is deep into the play, his face sweaty and eyes glazed over as he is so close to both his brother and father. There are small rivulets of pre-cum dripping down his trembling shaft every now and then. It looks like it will not take more than a mere breath against Genji’s cock to have him shoot his load.

Sojiro murmurs his thanks in a low, intimate voice, lips brushing against Genji’s ear before he finally loosens the leash somewhat and lets his sparrow put a bit of a distance between them.

Hanzo has started not-so-subtly humping his cock against the bed. His ear is a near alarming shade of red, his face mostly hidden in the pillow he’s been tormenting the whole time. It is not lost on Sojiro that he has been avoiding looking at his little brother for most of this. He wonders what is going on in Hanzo’s head. Maybe he does not want to experience the humiliation of coming desperately fast just from the sight of his little brother’s arousal.

He does perk up when Sojiro fits the handle of his sword into the swollen gape of his hole. His back arches and his head lifts as he hisses, his tender insides tortured by the rough yet intricately wrapped handle.

Genji’s mouth is hanging open. He’s probably never seen someone getting fucked on the hilt of a sword and moaning like a bitch for it. Sojiro is gripping the sheathed end with a sure fist, tilting it just like he knows will drive Hanzo wild as he begins to slowly pump it. Hanzo presses a hand over his mouth, trying to stifle the pitched whines spilling through his fingers regardless.

“You see… he needs it desperately, Genji. His body is _made_ to be filled. It will swallow whatever I give it and still beg for more-”

He twists the handle meanly, all but scraping it against Hanzo’s plump prostate. It makes him babble like a bird right on cue.

“F-Father… father oh… please, please, please-” He is trying to wriggle around; maybe pull away from the sensations or push into them… or just do _something, anything_ to not feel like his body is going to explode from all the sensations. In any case, he is held in place by both his brother and his father.

Genji has wrapped his hand around Hanzo’s ankle, making sure he does not manage to dislodge the sword hilt fucking into his belly with mind-numbing ease after the hole had been stretched so very thoroughly.

Sojiro watches his youngest son tightly. He can see the slow dawn of realization on Genji’s face. His understanding that… yes… yes, this _is_ the truth. Hanzo needs it… so badly. Hanzo _wants_ it. Hanzo _begs_ for it.

Genji’s dark, feverish eyes suddenly flick to Sojiro. He stares at him, head seemingly both empty and just… too full.

Sojiro nods at him slowly, no sneer on his face for once – just a solemn understanding that he has his sons in the palm of his hand at this very moment.

“You understand, Genji? His need? The _duty_ I have been shackled to, ensuring the well-being of the family? Of the both of you? Of _him_?” He jerks the hilt back in and Hanzo gurgles, one hand flying down to press against his abdomen as if to try and feel the object he’s getting fucked with. Maybe he can. “It has been my duty as the clan leader. As your father… to take care of both of your needs. And now… you are ready to learn right from the source how to take over. How to finally satiate Hanzo has you both deserve…”

He slowly tugs on the leash, increasing the pull and the pressure Genji feels under.

He asks again, low and with emphasize: “Do you understand, sparrow?”

“Yes,” Genji gasps, his eyes looking watery; like he is about to cry. From elation? Frustration? Fear? Need? All of it combined into an anxious ball? Sojiro does not know. But he will find out. “Yes… yes, I understand, father!”

Sojiro smiles slowly. He kisses Genji’s hot cheek, then grasps Hanzo’s hip, forcing him to roll onto his back and show himself off to them. The sword is like the black tail of a cat between his spread legs, lodged deep in his hungry guts.

Hanzo’s chest is heaving, his nipples candy red and delicious looking pudgy mounds. Sojiro watches Genji as he watches Hanzo, taking in his eyes roving over his brother’s body without shame for the first time.

Hanzo’s face is flushed red, his lips wet; a few strands of black hair sticking to them. Beautiful. Tempting. Theirs.

Sojiro gives a tug to Genji’s leash. The glassy eyes stare back at him without much comprehension it seems.

“You may mark him with your seed. But you may not touch him,” he tells him magnanimously.

Genji looks back to Hanzo. He starts to knee walk closer and between his legs, staring at his big brother’s desperately hard cock. They could be twins, there; both young and sleek and gorgeous. Stud dicks. One to be used whenever Sojiro wills it – and one to be merely admired from afar.

Genji curls his hand around his cock again. His chin has nearly hit his chest as he stares down at the blade’s hilt in his brother’s body; a coquettish show of what Hanzo is willing to endure to get his fill.

He begins to fuck his hands in quick, desperate thrusts, his face pulling into a grimace like it hurt to finally massage his cock after it had been so impossibly swollen for so long.

Sojiro watches it all like a hawk. When he deems the moment right, he grabs Genji by the back of his neck and pulls him over; making him put his forehead against his father’s breast in a gesture akin to a knight showing his supplication to his lord.

Genji sobs and Sojiro brushes a barely-there kiss against the top of Genji’s head.

“There you go… it will all be well from now on… soon, your training can begin truly. It will be magnificent, Genji. You will be everything I could have desired you to be…”

He curls his free arm around Genji’s back, listening to his half-sobs, half-moans as his hips buck coltishly, his body seemingly unable to shoot the thick load he had stored for however long.

Hanzo is watching them without blinking, his eyes looking huge and dark like pools one could drown in.

Sojiro slides his hand down, two fingers pressing against Genji’s tightly furled hole with easy dominance. He does not know whether it is this that tips Genji finally over, or whether he merely timed it exceptionally well.

In any case – Genji comes, head against his father’s chest, hips jerking and body trembling as he shoots thick ropes of cum over his brother’s cock and balls, one especially inspired rope hitting Hanzo’s sternum.

Sojiro feels like he can relax after an especially long ordeal.

It had taken so long… but they are finally on the right path.


	4. Sombra/Gabriel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sombra/Gabriel – dom/sub; consensual; bondage; suffocation; rough; dirty talk – Gabriel gags Sombra when he’s not in the mood to have her talk back at him.

Gabriel squints at the horizon while he smokes. He doesn’t have a watch on him but he figures they need to get a move on relatively soon to talk to the boss before they get the job done.

He glances down to the streets. Their hotel room is high up, keeping the noise practically non-existent. All that he can do is enjoy the slow push of the traffic that has gone sparse in these early hours while he moves his legs farther apart, trying to give his cock a bit of a release from the pressure. He’s been growing steadily harder since he went outside for a smoke break. He thought he’d be old enough by now not to get this damn excited, but the little package he’s left on the bed would bring a lot of men to their knees.

He reaches down and squeezes his cock idly through the fabric of his pants. Behind him, through the slightly open balcony door, he can hear the increasing, muffled anger of Sombra’s. She does not appreciate her current predicament the way Gabriel does, but that is no problem.

It is not designed to be fun for her. At least not immediately.

Gabriel glances at the horizon once more, then puts out the half-smoked cigarette. He vanishes in thin air, the cloud of nanobots slithering back into the room, curling around Sombra lying like a feast on the bed. She is writhing, trying to wind her wrists out of the secure bonds that keep them tied to her ankles.

Every motion has her tits trembling, her dark nipples having become hard points in the air of the room.

The smoke slides between her smooth thighs, gliding along the gash of her pussy. Sombra jerks, her breath audibly hitching. Gabriel ends with a particularly self-indulgent flick of her clit, then reassembles himself kneeling between her trembling legs. His clothes are still lying on the balcony outside where he shed them the moment he dissipated.

Sombra pulls her lips back, baring her teeth while digging them aggressively into the gag he shoved there earlier. She is making impotent sounds of rage, trying even harder to get free.

Gabriel smirks and leans over her, lightly brushing his rough fingertips over the peak of her left breast.

“I like you this way more, I think… nice and quiet. No talking back, no babbling… it is refreshing.”

He leans down and seals his mouth over the other teat, sucking hard until her screeching starts to subside somewhat. He pinches the other nipple and rolls it meanly between his fingers. That gets her to quiet down all of the way.

When he pulls back with a pop to stare into her face, her eyes have become unfocused, mouth slack around the gag.

“There you go. I don’t need you to do anything. Just lie there and be a good girl.”

He grabs his cock, dragging the tip along her gash. She’s nice and wet, her labia so warm… It’s what he appreciates about her the most. Her warmth. Her willingness to share it. He is a notoriously cold bastard these days, but Sombra does not seem to mind the almost morbidly cold erection pressing into her squishy, warm insides.

All that she wants is a nice fat cock. One that can spread her open wide and make her feel used and abused.

Gabriel can offer that plenty.

By the time he starts nudging the crown against her opening, Sombra is almost cross eyed and softly gurgling into her gag. Now that is nice… that is real nice.

He slowly arches forward, spreading her in minute detail around the bulging tip of his dick just to be an asshole about it and make her _feel_ it.

Her mouth falls open. Beneath the gag, her tongue tries to loll out idiotically. Sombra makes the most _adorable_ faces when she gets fucked, he’s found out.

“There you go… you’re pretty easy to fuck stupid, aren’t you? Bit of dick and you’re a bimbo…” He pushes slowly deeper, body warming up a little just from the warm, silky grip of her cunt around him.

It’s exciting to have her this helpless to him… she can be as brilliant as she wants, if she can’t properly use her fingers, she is completely at his mercy. Her dark skin flushes even darker over her tits when he pushes in deeper and deeper, spearing her centimeter by centimeter until he is sure he can feel the resistance of her cervix against his tip.

Sombra trembles, reedy whimpers coming from her. Delicious.

Gabriel pulls back minimally, then pushes back in. When he stares at her abdomen he can just about see the outline of his cock. She is so dainty…

It doesn’t keep him from roughing her up. She can take it, after all. He fucks her with longer, harder thrusts just to force her louder again so he can have something to complain about.

“Stop that racket,” he growls, curling his large palm around her throat. He squeezes down lightly.

Sombra’s eyes open wide. She stares at him with a wide-eyed gaze that has no real intelligence behind it. He finds himself grinning at her, dark and nasty.

“There… fuck, you’re just a doll, aren’t you? Just a little fuck puppet… Got a few holes left I haven’t stuffed full…” He curls his fingers a little tighter still around her throat. When she gurgles, he pulls the gag from her mouth and immediately stuffs it with his fingers. He drags them over her tongue, pinching it between them until she starts to messily drool.

Her face is flushing the same dark shade her tits have become. He can feel her trying to breathe around the obstruction in her mouth while he snaps his hips, keeping her cunt nice and occupied as he restricts her oxygen.

“There you go. Fuck. That’s nice and warm… you’re a hot little bitch, Sombra dear.”

He rams in hard, making her do a weird half-screech-half-gurgle as her eyes roll into her head.

Gabriel slides his fingers in deeper, playing with her uvula and listening to her gagging and moaning and wheezing… all while her cunt does a weird little song-and-dance all on its own, trembling on his cock, squeezing down as if she is about to come, then relaxing again…

It occurs to him that she somehow managed to abort her orgasm. That’s kind of hot, too…

He pulls his fingers out of her mouth suddenly, and takes his hand from her throat, instead ramming in deep as he comes himself.

Sombra howls like a wolf, her body trembling, cunt spasming around him. He thinks she blacks out halfway through.

Nice.

.o.

“Get yourself back together. We need to see the boss before the mission.”

Sombra opens one eye and balefully stares at him.

“I hate it when you don’t let me speak… you only do it when you want to insult me.”

“Hmmm… gets you off, doesn’t it? And I wasn’t in the mood for your bitching…”

She stares daggers at his back, but she can’t argue with that. It’s the truth, after all… she’s never gotten it as good as she got it from Gabriel.

And the sight of him walking his naked ass outside to get his clothes isn’t half-bad either.


	5. McCree/Hanzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree/Hanzo – direct continuation; fucking; kissing; anal orgasm; hairy McCree; bottom McCree; BRIEF MENTION OF ANIMAL/HUMAN – Hanzo takes what is his.
> 
> Prequel: B41F1  
> Sequel: B43F4

Hanzo sticks to his side like an over affectionate dog. He is so close, Jesse can feel his breath against the back of his neck, ruffling his hair as he moves around their tiny house with his dick swinging in the open.

He barely sees any need to get dressed as is, and now that Hanzo’s sucked his dick and he can still feel the wetness of his saliva on his shaft, he feels even less inclined to pull them back up.

Hanzo is quiet but intense; Jesse feels weirdly enough bullied by him. Just his presence.

His brain, sluggish still from orgasm dredges up a thought of Hanzo being a yakuza heir. Never has it been more apparent than from the quiet intimidation he exudes so easily. Even with his lips still swollen from both sucking a donkey and sucking Jesse.

After puttering around for five or so minutes, uselessly shoving a box from one place to the other and back again, Jesse turns to Hanzo. He feels frazzled, body still lethargic, pulsing warm. The thick sound of Hanzo swallowing his cum is etched into his brain.

“Whazzat, buddy?” He slurs so hard that even he has trouble understanding right now. Hanzo’s velvety dark eyes squint slightly as he stares at him. He doesn’t touch Jesse, but it feels like he is. Bullying him again; making him take a small step back until he almost topples over their rickety dining table.

Jesse looks down then and stares at Hanzo’s cock. His erection. For some reason it had never been part of any equation – aside from lazily fingering orgasms out of him whenever he felt too bored to put on the radio or television. Hanzo’s body is a toy to him.

Was a toy to him.

He stares at the muscles, finely trembling in anticipation. The guy is a work of art even after months getting degraded like an animal. Jesse suddenly is very aware of the furry gut slightly peeking out underneath his shirt. He’s kind of gotten soft these past months… since he settled down with Hanzo.

_Settled down…_

Hanzo reaches up. It’s slow and deliberate, designed to not be _threatening_ , and Jesse lets him grab him by the scruff of his neck. He feels himself get turned around towards his scuffed armchair.

“O...okay?”

Hanzo shoves him over the side of the armchair, slotting himself against Jesse’s back, his erection nestling nicely in the furry crack of Jesse’s ass.

“Oh…” is all his cumdumb brain can come up with. Hanzo huffs softly against his ear. It sounds suspiciously like a laugh.

Jesse’s crack is still wet from Hanzo’s greedy licking, his hole soft and primed for a fuck. It occurs to him belatedly when the li’l critter starts to drag his erection through the wet fur between his cheeks and insistently nudges against his hole.

He’s bullying him again, but it could be a lot ruder. A lot harsher.

Like they’ve done to him in the Gorge. Like Jesse’s done to him.

His breath hitches. He twists, pressing his hand in the middle of Hanzo’s chest.

“Woah, now-” he starts, ready to push him back and dissuade him from his current goal of trying to see just how easy Jesse is for a dicking… but it never happens.

Instead, Hanzo just kind of… falls into him. Mouth first. (Cock second).

Jesse grunts when Hanzo presses his lips against his mouth, body awkwardly twisted as he simultaneously begs for dick and tries to protest it.

 _Oh…_ he thinks dazedly. His cock is doing its best trying to lift up again. His balls ache in dull throbs, his ass is full… ah… Hanzo slipped him the tip just like that…

Just like he is kissing Jesse, all gentle and sweetheat-like, their beards tickling as their chins slide against each other.

Jesse exhales in a soft puff and whispers: “Holy shit…”

Hanzo doesn’t say anything; he just slips him his tongue just as casually as he has his dick.

Jesse feels like he’s twisted into a pretzel on top of his armchair. He can get just enough air to wheeze out little moans as Hanzo gently rocks into him. He can’t remember the last time he let someone fuck him. Must’ve been in the Gorge during some drunken fumble…

He has trouble figuring out what to focus on. The pressure in his guts from Hanzo slowly fucking into him, or the slick little tongue dragging against his teeth and the inside of his mouth, exploring him with a leisurely pace.

Just when he thinks dots should start to dance in front of his eyes, Hanzo pulls back. He is breathing faster as well; Jesse can feel it against his wet, swollen lips. Everything tingles… only his balls are aching and throbbing, making him feel for the first time that he is getting older.

Hanzo presses his forehead against Jesse’s. They have to look ridiculous, twisted around each other like this, but it actually feels really good. Really fucking good. Hanzo’s exhales are punctuated by a bit of a whine.

Jesse puts his hand in the back of his neck and pulls him in again. More kisses. More of them. He needs the warm drag of Hanzo’s mouth against him. His brain supplies him with the pictures of this mouth having gotten intimately acquainted both with his ass and cock no an hour ago. Ah… ah, and a donkey… ah… 

Fuck it.

He licks into Hanzo’s mouth, flicks thoughtlessly against those sharp little teeth he’s been terrified of for longer than he likes to admit. Hanzo doesn’t bite, he just groans and jerks his hips to make them slap against Jesse’s hairy ass.

Stars explode behind his closed lids. His cock still tries its damndest, but he knows it’ll not get there in time. His body tingles, centering behind his navel, then lowering down deeper into his guts.

He starts to bear down on Hanzo’s cock without much thought; it’s instinct. Half of him is a bit weirded out by it, but if the li’l critter minds, it does not show.

They’re just panting open-mouthed into each other, sweating and fucking slow and sweet. It’s embarrassing how hot it is.

Hanzo suddenly stiffens, his hips pressing against Jesse’s ass. He’s probably coming. Fireworks go off in Jesse’s brain, the tingle and pressure in his guts exploding through his body. Feels like an orgasm, but his cock remains half-hard and useless, only a few dribbles of liquid soaking the armrest of the scuffed chair.

There’s blood roaring in his ears, and amidst it all he can hear a rough voice whisper: “Jesse…”

It takes him a while to put two and two together. After what feels like hours, he cracks an eye open and stares at Hanzo’s flushed face.

“...Y’can talk?” he asks in a daze, his body feeling stuffed with cotton. He doesn’t think he’s made to come this often in such a short amount of time.

Hanzo opens his eyes to glittering dark slits-

But he doesn’t answer.


	6. McCree/Hanzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree/Hanzo – Minotaur AU 1/? – sexual slavery; incarceration – Sojiro loves one of his boys seemingly more than the other; so he gifts him something extraordinary.
> 
> Sequel: B43F6

Hanzo knows that compared to his brother, he will always be second place to his father’s affections. He tries not to think about it, though. He is the heir, he will be the leader one day. It is of no surprise that Sojiro would pay special attention to his upbringing and be strict. Getting spoilt the way Genji does is not an option. It never has been.

Hanzo knows this intellectually, but as he stands at the window of his rooms and watches the guards wrangle a truly spectacular beast, he can’t help but be jealous after all. This creature with its large horns and deadly hoofs is not for Hanzo. It is for Genji. Genji, who could not be bothered less and isn’t even in the estate right now to watch as the guards call sharp instructions to one another, hanging off of ropes and chains with their whole body weight just to keep the beast from rampaging through the otherwise pristine garden.

The creature is trussed up as much as possible without completely hobbling its legs, yet it still is surprisingly competent in fighting off the guards. It has a long tail with a tuft of hair at the end which it wields with a precision that inadvertently amuses Hanzo.

He steps closer to his window, slightly cracking it open. Immediately the angry cries of the guards and the huffing of the creature becomes louder. A few moments later he can small it, too. It is warm and alive; like one of Hanzo’s horses.

He’s heard of them, but only in mythology: Minotaurs. He’d never thought they would actually exist.

 _And father gifts one to Genji… he has to know that he will tire of him sooner or later_. Hanzo tries to shove the thought away as quickly as it had come. He stares at the minotaur stemming against the ropes and chains and needing eight of their men to be pulled forward. His hoofs are digging deep gauges into the otherwise pristine grass. Father will be furious when he sees it.

The minotaur’s large nostrils flare with the exertion, his thick lips pulled back to show off large, blunt teeth. Hanzo feels warm all of a sudden. He looks down, exhaling sharply, then glances up again. Someone has opened the large door to the barns behind the estate. It’d be quite a way until they have the beast in there. Hanzo has a lot to do himself – he doesn’t have the time to stand at the window and gawk, but he can’t help but stay put anyway.

Where did they get the minotaur from? Were there even more? Were all as… impressive as this one? He watches for far far longer than he should. He only stops when eventually Genji does arrive, stalking around the whole parade to watch the creature with huge eyes.

Hanzo turns and sits back down at his desk, staring at the charts laid out neatly before him. However, he can’t stop thinking of the minotaur with its chocolate brown undercoat and the large white and black spots all over its body, muscles clearly visible beneath the short fur as they trembled with exertion.

He wonders how long Genji will keep being entertained by it before inevitably growing tired.

.o.

Hanzo tries to forget about the minotaur during the next couple months. It is weirdly difficult to keep away from the barn. Usually he has no problem forgetting about the building even existing. He has his own space where he keeps his horses; Genji and he have always been notoriously bad in sharing their things.

Genji’s barn has been unoccupied for years, horses having held as little interest to him as everything else he has ever tried – except partying, it seems.

Hanzo finds his gaze wandering toward the building more often than not. It’s rare that he can hear anything at all coming from it. The minotaur is surprisingly docile, it seems – at least it sounds that way from the few times Genji even mentions his pet. He has named it ‘Haruto’, and what exactly he does with it… _him_ … he cannot say. He probably doesn’t want to know.

There are just a couple times Hanzo witnesses Haruto being let out of the barn to stretch his limbs and inhale fresh air. He is massively hobbled both times, his head encased in a muzzle, and a large gold ring through Haruto’s septum with a chain connecting it to a belt around his waist so he can’t start storming off and throwing a tantrum.

Genji is interested in his pet for so long that Sojiro starts talking about finally having tamed his little sparrow. Hanzo is almost inclined to agree – when Genji’s interest in Haruto suddenly drops. He flutters to his next obsession, back to the clubs, leaving Sojiro to quietly fume and Hanzo to wonder what would happen to the mythical creature in one of their barns.

He has other things to worry about, of course. His studies. His martial arts practices. The meetings he has to attend more and more often as he grows older and more competent in leading the clan.

Still… He finds himself looking out his window toward the barn most nights, even long after Genji has probably forgotten all about Haruto.

It’s not as quiet anymore, either. Every now and then Hanzo can hear Haruto rebelling in the barn, probably bored out of his mind now that Genji is no longer… playing… with him. Whatever _has_ Genji been up to?

It’s all moot one cold winter night. Hanzo stands and stares at the barn one moment, then finds himself walking toward it the other.

_Just a glimpse. Just a little peek._

There are two warm orange lamps on inside as he slips through the door. The barn is warm as if ten horses were inside instead of just one creature rousing in its massive cage. Hanzo’s breath hitches as he sees the contraption for the first time. He hadn’t even noticed the guards building it… He hadn’t given Haruto’s lodgings much thought at all.

The bars are as thick as Hanzo’s wrist, and wide enough to let him slip inside if he so desires. Haruto has curled up on his side but now he begins to move even before Hanzo is ready to have his presence known.

Large brown eyes are on him, staring at him without much expression. The gold ring is glinting in the yellow light from the lamps.

Hanzo inhales deeply, his lungs and his body filling with the scent of a large, warm barn animal. It’s… comforting. He has always enjoyed…

He steps closer to the bars, hands curling around them, staring at Haruto.

“Good evening…” he breathes just barely above a whisper. It’s idiotic to talk to an animal, of course, but...

The minotaur is faster than he could have ever assumed. One moment it is half roused, the other it has the front of Hanzo’s robe, clutching at him, nostrils flaring wide. He’s so close that his hot breath is lightly blowing Hanzo’s hair back while he stares at it stunned.

“A little evening treat…”

The deep voice is resonant and takes Hanzo off-guard. His mouth opens in an idiotic gape, tongue feeling thick in his mouth.

“You… can talk…?”

Haruto blows his warm breath into Hanzo’s face once more, gently pulling him inside his cage.

“I can do a lot more than that. Come here… I was bored anyway.”


	7. Geralt/Ciri

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt/Ciri – femdom; big dick in smol puss; himbo!Geralt – Ciri finally gets what she wants.
> 
> Prequel: B41F8  
> Sequel: B43F9

Ciri crawls onto the bed, her little lily-white ass swaying and taking his whole attention. She’s so damn small… He feels like if he were to put his cock in any of her holes, he’d kill her.

She comes to a stop kneeling on all fours and coquettishly looks over her shoulder back at him. Her flush has spread to her shoulders now; while she is trying her damndest to be cool and in-charge, Geralt knows she has no damn clue what she is doing. He can _smell_ her virginity. Sweet and clear and tangy… he wants to bury his nose in her little peach and sniff like a dog.

He doesn’t. He stands his ground, curling his fists at his sides. They’re as big as her goddamn head. By God, this is not right…

“You are thinking too much,” Ciri says with a small frown. “That’s… unusual. Don’t hurt yourself.”

Geralt lifts his lip in a snarl. The girl had been _mesmerized_ by him. She had _adored_ him as her savior come down to pull her out of the swamp she had slowly gotten herself stuck in up to her sharp little chin. When has she become so… mean?

He wonders if it is just inherent for these types of women. For the ones that know what they want and will grab it with both fists and pull until it is theirs. He might be privy to the birth of one of them right now…

Ciri giggles at whatever it is she sees on his face and shakes her head. Her pale brows are almost indistinguishable on her face from just these few steps away but he can see how she is starting to frown, getting a bit unsure as she does reach back.

Geralt watches, his mouth growing very dry (and his cock very hard) as Ciri grabs one of her pale little cheeks and pulls it to the side. Showing off her little treasure trove to him.

“There. Don’t you want it?”

He’s sure she just means to show him her little cunt, glowing at him like red maw of a beast; a tender little slit. However, there is also her _other_ hole; a tasty little star that looks too tight to even fit a finger inside.

Geralt is not gifted with the power of imagination. Still, he tries to figure out how it might look trying to squeeze his cock into either of these tiny holes. Ripping them open.

He growls and finally comes closer, cock first. It is arched in front of him, slowly flexing. It knows instinctively where it’s needed most, looking like an animal nosing in the direction of her gash. That sweet peach that he can see is glistening with juices already…

“Do not wait! Come on!”

She tries to sound mean and snobbish, but there is a breathless wheeze to her voice now. He glances up to her face as he shuffles up behind her. Her pale eyes are glassy, her ears glowing.

“I will destroy this,” he grunts. He grabs her thigh and presses his thumb against her gash, dragging it through the slit to feel her silky lubrication coating the rough fingertip. Her hips jerk but she stays put nicely without him having to do anything about it. She lets her head drop forward, fine muscles along her back twitching.

“Big words. You’re just trying to dissuade m…” she stops herself with a stuttered breath when Geralt gently drags his rough thumb pad over her little pearl. He drags slow circles over it, listening to her try to muffle her whines, her hips twitching.

“I can give you pleasure just like this.” He leans down, finally giving in to stuff his face between her cheeks, tongue dragging through her peach from top to bottom in one easy swipe.

She reaches back, grabbing his hair in one mean fist. She rips on it like a child learning to ride for the first time, trying to order his head still so she can grind her little ass on his face and use his tongue to get off on. The diversion only lasts for a few blissful minutes in which Geralt heroically tries to ignore the throb of his cock.

Ciri still rips his hair, but in another way. She tries to pull him up from her pussy, her voice breathy but certain: “Do it now! Do it, do it!”

Geralt pulls away with a huff. Her slick is glistening at the tip of his nose and against his chin. As he pulls her hand out of his hair, he stares at her cunt, rubbed red from his perpetual stubble. He grasps her hips, marvelling how large his hands look on them.

“Ciri…”

She groans drawn out. She lets herself plop onto her shoulders to have a hand free, thrusting it between her trembling thighs. Under his watchful gaze, she drags her fingers in quick little drags over her clit.

“Ohhh you’re so useless! I should’ve gone to Jaskier. He wouldn’t ask so many damn _questions_!”

It’s impressive how she can sound so angry while also being out of breath, her little ass bouncing like a bunny’s as she desperately rubs her pearl in little circles.

Geralt growls, immediately irked at the notion of her going to the bard. He grabs her ankle and jerks on it, causing her to neatly flip around and on her back, her eyes huge. It happened so fast, it looks like she forgot to squeal in surprise.

He’s on her in moments, spreading her thighs and looking down on her little gash. Dangerous. Goddamn dangerous these women. He puts his cock against her, pausing, belly going tight at the sight. Before he can balk, Ciri grabs him by the ears and pulls until he feels like she wants to rip them right off his goddamn head.

Geralt looks up and directly into her determined, triumphant face.

“Do it!”

He’s done worse things than giving a young woman what she demanded, he supposes. He slides home – or rather, he squeezes his tip in until it finally pops inside her. Ciri’s eyes grow huge, her mouth going slack.

She does not make him pull immediately back, though. Guts. Guts. She’s got _guts_.

Geralt leans down on his elbows so he can stare directly into her flushed, stunned face as he begins to rock his cock deeper into her little snatch. He can feel her body scrambling to adjust around him, her muscles strong like a fist as they clench down on him.

It had to hurt like a bitch but she doesn’t make him stop. She has let go of his ears and instead scratches his shoulders and back up like a cat.

He can’t squeeze all of himself into her. He just can’t. He’d _destroy_ her. She doesn’t need all of it anyway. Maybe she doesn’t even realize there is still some meat left to go; her eyes roll up into her head either way when he begins to fuck her in short little thrusts.

It’s not enough for him to get him off… until he looks down between their bodies and sees the bulge in her belly. Ciri takes his cock without complaint, animalistic groans spilling from her, her meager little tits bouncing, her body trying its best to take him even as she starts to screw down tight on him.

It’s the bulge. It’s the goddamn bulge. He can see it move with every one of his motions. He feels like if he squeezed just a fraction more of his cock into her, he’d knock right against her cervix.

He’s not gifted with imagination, but the thought of pushing his load right _into_ her is hitting him unsuspectingly deep.

“G-Good boy-” Ciri stutters, high-pitched, teetering on the edge of an orgasm.

Geralt’s whole body jolts, his balls jerking, pulling up to his body, cock starting to swell just that tiny bit more, beginning to pulse out cum like magma…

How the Hell did he always find these women??


	8. Hank/Connor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank/Connor – inflatable cyborg cock; massive insertion; sleepy sex – Connor got a new upgrade that he didn’t tell Hank about.

When Hank wakes, his first look with bloodshot, tired eyes is to the clock next to his bed. The glowing numbers tell him that it’s just past 2 in the morning.

The next he becomes aware of is the source for his premature awakening: Connor gently lining his slick cock up to his hole and pushing inside while one hand spreads Hank’s cheeks apart for easier access.

“What the… fuck?” he growls with a sleep rough voice. “Connor, holy shit…”

“I’m sorry, Hank. Did I wake you?” Connor falls miles from sounding concerned. Usually he is pretty good with inflections these days… but well. He is _occupied_. With stuffing Hank in the middle of the goddamn night.

“Couldn’t this’ve waited until morning?” Hank asks. He has a feeling he’ll be a lot more annoyed about this come morning, but for now he has trouble even staying awake while Connor’s nice, sleek young-man-cock slip-slides into him. It’s warm and there’s no real resistance, the motion slow and rhythmic enough to lull Hank right back to sleep.

“I’ll be quick, I promise,” Connor replies right next to his ear. He’s pressed against Hank’s back now, pushing him until he is half-rolled onto his belly. One hand is hooked under his knee, holding it with an ergonomically shaped hand in a gentle but very firm grip as he pushes it up until his belly starts to obstruct the motion and Hank grunts in annoyance.

“I just want to test something,” Connor whispers. There’s no breath fanning over Hank’s hear, ruffling his hair; no warmth against his cheek. It had been alien when they had started this whole thing, but he’s grown used to it. Connor is a nice warm weight against his back, his slim hips moving in a calm rhythm as he fucks Hank.

He’s too sleepy to even get self-conscious about his flabby ass or how he’s held like a lady while Connor dicks him from behind. It’s all just slow and slick and warm. His brain tries to make him question what exactly Connor wants to _test_ , but all he gets out is a weird sound somewhere between a moan and a snore.

It’s two in the goddamn morning and he’s just been woken by his overly affectionate cyborg boytoy for a weird quickie that couldn’t’ve waited until the morning when he’s had his coffee… he was allowed to be barely awake, right? Right.

“Fuck… get it over with quickly,” he rumbles, dragging a hand over his face. “And don’t come whining if I fall asleep.”

He tries to be nonchalant about it but he has a feeling Connor has his night vision on or whatever the Hell it’s called, and probably can see very clearly how Hank is flushing with embarrassment over just being such an old fart.

Oh, in his youth he would have been all too eager to spring to any opportunity to get some, but nowadays…

Connor only hums. He does not seem to be paying much attention at all to Hank as a whole. He has no idea what the kid is up to this time, but he dreads that he’ll find out soon enough. Unless he can go back to sleep before Connor’s grand scheme unfolds.

Maybe it would be even better to not be lucid for whatever Connor is up to.

However, it becomes increasingly more difficult to fall asleep again. The more he tries, the more he becomes aware of the cock sliding against his rim. It almost seems… bigger than usual which is ludicrous, of course. Ludicrous until it becomes… more and more difficult to ignore that… Connor’s cock _is_ getting bigger.

Hank’s brow furrows. He tries to sleep, he really does. He’s got work in the morning and it’s become increasingly more tricky to wake up in time even with Connor nagging him like the walking alarm clock that he is. He should be conked out.

But Connor’s _cock_. It is stretching him in a way it never has before. It feels weirdly longer too. Hank almost feels constipated. He groans low and reaches down with one hand, slowly dragging the palm over the swell of his gut, then pressing against the lower swell. He almost imagines being able to feel Connor’s dick rooting around in it.

Eventually he can’t push the feeling on his groggy brain anymore.

Connor’s cock is getting bigger. And bigger.

Hank scrabbles to grab Connor’s hand still holding his leg up. He clutches at the wrist until he can feel the plastic slightly creak.

“Connor?!”

“Yes, Hank?” Connor answers far too… casual. The little fucker knows _exactly_ what’s going on and why Hank is starting to feel like he’s going to give birth any goddamn second now.

“What is… what’s happening?!”

As he speaks, Connor’s cock grows again, far faster and more noticeable than any of the other times. Maybe he’s figured that now that Hank knows he can just go to town. Hank’s never felt anything this weird before. His hole is spread wide but there is no pain. Just… pressure.

He feels like he’s got to take a dump, if he’s honest.

“I had a new upgrade installed,” Connor answers after a moment. He sounds careful; like he’s still running simulations on how Hank might react to whatever he is about to say. “I couldn’t wait to try it out…”

“What upgrade?!” Hank’s voice is climbing dangerously. Connor’s cock is still swelling more and more. What the _fuck_ …?!

“An inflatable phallus,” Connor replies serenely. He lets go of Hank’s leg to curl his arm around him. It’s such a casual gesture, but he very much pins Hank down, leaving him only able to vaguely flop like a fish. “You need to stay calm, Hank. I don’t want to injure you…”

“I-Injure-”

He can’t finish the sentence. He is too focused on the huge cock gently pumping through his belly. He’s always figured there were twists and turns in his intestines, but Connor makes it seem like one straight tube. He feels like some kind of toy.

He’s too old for this shit.

Still, his body reacts. Connor is pressing so insistently against his prostate, tears shoot into Hank’s eyes. His whole body lights up like a Christmas tree, his dumb old dick starting to react to it while behind him he can already hear the telltale hum of Connor being close to his own weird little cyborg orgasm.

“You feel so good, Hank… I can feel all the machinations of your body… I can feel your heartbeat around me…”

Connor’s hand is sliding over Hank’s beer gut, rubbing it like a loving father would their pregnant wife’s stomach.

Hank really does feel pregnant. Pregnant with cock.

Connor’s voice takes on a decidedly mechanic buzz.

“You feel so good, Hank… I couldn’t wait… I knew it would feel like this… my predictions have been c-correct. Y-You should take off work… y-you w-will,” there is a glitch, Connor impossibly hot at his back, sounding like a crazed computer. “Y-You willlll be g-g-gaping, and the sen… the sen… the sensation will be unfamilllliar. You willlll want to to to to-”

Hank doesn’t fucking know what he’ll want to do. Connor ruts into him one last mighty time as he comes. Hank’s insides are squeezing down on the massive stretch. He feels like he can physically feel the tip of Connor’s dick pressing against his belly from the inside.

He would kill him… later.


	9. Reaper/Soldier76

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel/Jack – thigh fucking; dirty talk; voice kink; little bit of praise kink – Jack and Gabriel have a day off and Jack can’t keep his hands off of him.

It’s unusually calm and relaxing to lie in bed with Jack, watching some stupid flick that they kind of got hung up on. Gabriel is almost dozing away. No mission, no crisis, no nothing for once… just them snuggling, Jack an oven at his back, and the low drone of the TV in front.

It’s… actually wholesome.

Right until Gabriel feels how his shorts are getting gently tucked down from behind. He grunts, patting behind him and curling his fingers around Jack’s wrist.

“The Hell you think you’re doing, bud?” he drawls, tongue barely even working with how close to sleep he’s been. “Thought we’d just chill…”

Jack breathes warm against his ear just because he knows it always gets Gabriel weak in the knees.

“Yeah… you can chill,” he promises in a rumble, his voice sounding like massive stones rubbing against each other. Gabriel closes his eyes, his nipples tingling and becoming hard peaks as a Pavlovian reaction to it. Jack’s gotten way too good… “I won’t disturb you… just need a bit of space here…”

He kisses behind Gabriel’s ear, his chin dragging against his skin and ensuring that he definitely won’t get any sleep any time soon. The stubble scratching against him has him on high alert within moments. Goddamn, he’s trained like a dog to respond to Jack’s everything. He’ll have to take a good long look at himself to reevaluate his life choices…

Later.

Gabriel grunts. Jack can take that however he wants, so of course he decides that it is his go-ahead. Gabriel lets go of his wrist, and he keeps tugging his shorts down with the finger hooked into the elastic band.

“Come on, help a little,” he mutters when it gets stuck between Gabriel’s hip and the bed. He briefly thinks about not helping one little bit, but he’s honestly too interested in what Jack has come up with, so he lifts himself up enough for Jack to quickly slide the elastic down.

“Shit… that’s a nice view.” Jack presses his forehead against the back of Gabriel’s neck, obviously looking down at his ass being bared to the room. “Never seen an ass as fat as yours.”

“Is that what you understand under ‘sweet nothings’?”

His face is burning which annoys him even more. He’s so damn easy for the filth Jack spews on a daily basis when nobody is around to witness it.

Jack doesn’t answer. He takes his time kneading Gabriel’s ass, spreading the cheeks and digging his fingers in until the low-key arousal is making him squirm and try to spread his legs, though he is hobbled by his own shorts.

“Shhh… I gotchu,” Jack whispers, followed by a warm lick all around the edge of his ear. He almost misses the sound of a cap clicking. The lube. Does he actually think he could just fuck him like that?

“Jack-” he growls, but the Strike Commander is undaunted. He reaches around him with a low hum, hand searching and finding his cock to give it a warm, distracting squeeze while sliding forward with his hips.

“‘S all good… don’t worry about it, Gabe. Just keep watching the movie…”

“Asshole…” Gabriel replies, fingers digging into the blanket. He can’t concentrate on shit with Jack having slipped his cock between his thighs, the tip of it pressing against the formerly very warm and cozy space just behind his balls.

Jack has slathered his dick in lube which is now cold and tacky on his skin. There is a wave of goosebumps running up his legs and down his arms. If he twists just right he can drag his nipple against his bicep and feel just how desperately hard the little nub has become.

“Shit…” he whispers on a low breath. Jack doesn’t answer anything. It feels like he is very focused on what he is doing right now; just on feeling the sensation of having his cock squished between Gabriel’s thighs.

“Hey… can you clench your legs some? That’d be- fuck. Fuck yeah.”

Gabriel doesn’t think much about it; he just follows the advice along, tensing the massive muscles in his thighs until Jack’s breath comes in a wheeze that makes him think he is just short of squishing the Strike Commander’s cock like a melon.

“Shit… That’s it.” Jack’s breath is hitting Gabriel’s sensitive ear in little panting explosions. It is distraction enough until the lube warms up and everything is just warm and slick and wholly weird. He’s never gotten his thighs fucked. It’s a strange sensation. Every now and then Jack’s cock manages to nudge back into the warm space behind his balls. More often than not, he slides right past them, just lightly jostling the heavy sac and giving Gabriel the barest hint of what he really wants.

His hole clenches and relaxes, desperate for some contact. Instead it just gets a slight brush of sensation every now and then.

“It’s not fair,” Jack whispers into his ear. His hand is clenched around Gabriel’s cock, only giving him the odd pump when he can drag enough brain cells together to think about it.

“W-What is?” Gabriel replies, voice gone a bit rougher as well… though nowhere near the deep growl of filth spilling forth from Jack. Goddamn that voice. It grabs him right by the fucking balls every goddamn-

“It’s not fair that you’re so gorgeous,” Jack gasps, his hips trying to snap a bit faster despite it being increasingly more difficult with them lying on their sides. “Got nice tits. Nice face. Nice fat ass… and those thighs… fuck…”

Gabriel clenches his eyes shut, trying to breathe through his clenched teeth. He reaches down and slaps Jack’s hand away so he can grab himself and start to jerk himself off while Jack’s cock keeps slip-sliding through the tight squeeze of his thighs and nudging against his velvety, warm sac.

“My face is second on that list… nice.”

The sarcasm falls short, partly due to Jack not really listening to him. He has his mouth now pressed against Gabriel’s ear, crooning filth while his hips slap against his ass, trying so damn hard to get off just from slip-sliding between the tight clench of Gabriel’s thighs.

“I should do this more often. Push you down and use your thighs like this. Always knew they’d be good for something filthy. Thought of trying to get my head crushed between ‘em but this is so much better, isn’t it? Fuck, Gabe, you feel so good on my cock. No matter where I put it. I could fuck your tits too, right? Rub between them and shoot my load right onto your pretty fucking face. Rub it into your cheeks. Fuck… Fuck, I think I’m not gonna last long. Think I’m going to shoot off right onto your fat breeder balls. Shit- Shit, Gabe, why’s everything you got so perfect?!”

Gabriel doesn’t know how to answer this. His whole body is hot and singing, and his ear is burning from Jack deep down in his own filthy little mind as he tries and fails to jackrabbit his cock between Gabriel’s thighs.

It doesn’t matter.

Gabriel tenses his muscles a little more, squeezing down, making the slide so tight that it had to _hurt_ -

And Jack is off like a shot, groaning explosively. Gabriel fumbles to reach down and tuck his cock back into that warm space behind his sac just to feel the thick pulses of cum starting to make a serious mess out of everything.

Jack somehow has the wherewithal to give him a hand through it all, thumb rubbing over his tip once, twice, thrice- coaxing the orgasm out of him with a frankly embarrassing ease.

“Shit… Shit, okay… just… give me a few minutes. I want to do that again.”

Gabriel would snort, but he’s still blitzed from the orgasm, cock dribbling a few last drops of cum.


	10. Bruce/Jason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce/Jason – (Finale) virginity kink; tsundere!Jason; gentle fuck – Bruce has a proposition for Jason.
> 
> Prequel: B41F12

Jason had wanted to laugh at Bruce’s completely ridiculous statement. He’d wanted to laugh his goddamn head off, in fact. But, as so many things in Jason’s life, it didn’t go according to plan.

The cock against his entrance was entirely too distracting. He’d not even noticed B taking it out. It’s a lot bigger than the fingers that had been rounding the slippery muscle over and over, trying to coax him open on them. Jason’s head lowers, chin against his collar bones to stare down his body. He tries to watch the proceedings, but his own dick is in the way.

The pressure of B’s crown against his hole increases, threatening to try and pop inside him, so he quickly lifts up a little higher, his breath hitching.

It’s cold on the rooftop, but Jason is suddenly sweating bullets. The heat radiating off of B is to blame for that, of course. That and the warm breath he insists on blowing against Jason’s throat. When has he been leaning so far down? His forehead is basically pressed against B’s…

“Shhh it’s all good… I won’t hurt you,” Bruce whispers. It has him bristle- but the fingers are back as well now, lightly rubbing at him alongside the warm, blunt tip of Bruce’s cock.

“I will make you feel so good, Jason… It’s all I ever wanted for you. I never meant for anything of it to happen.” He is now kissing the hinge of Jason’s jaw, his finger lightly wriggling its tip inside him and rubbing along the silky skin just behind his trembling little muscle.

Heat swamps Jason’s body again, from head to toe and back again. His cock is surging up, almost tapping against his belly. He could lift his hips up again. He could go away. Bruce is not holding him hostage; he has to admit that much.

He stays put.

“Stop… stop talking,” he stutters.

Bruce hums, then falls indeed quiet, though Jason knows that won’t last long. While Batman is a monosyllabic bastard, Bruce Wayne is a very talkative one. He loves the sound of his own goddamn voice.

Bruce kisses his jaw again, his finger slipping in a little deeper, pulling against Jason’s rim. It’s an alien feeling but not… uncomfortable. It’s not like he hasn’t experimented a little with it; when alone in the shower… touching himself… trying to locate that sweet spot he just _knows_ exists, but never able to reach it in the awkward positions he’s tried out.

B has no problem with finding it, it seems. Of course the bastard is a master of anatomy as well. As bad as Jason _knows_ he’s been in bed with any of the poor ladies he’s managed to coax home with him, as skilled he seems to be in gently wriggling his way inside Jason’s body until he unerringly finds his prostate.

Jason bites the tip of his tongue, his abdomen filled with a weird tingling sensation. He hunches his hips instinctively, fingers digging into the thin blanket B had spread out on the rooftop just for this occasion.

The stupid bastard.

“Shh it’s alright,” Bruce croons. His infernal finger is slowly rounding Jason’s prostate, only barely nudging it directly. Even still – or maybe because of it – tears shoot to Jason’s eyes. He jerks his hips, trying to catch Bruce off guard. Make him touch him _properly_ and not keep teasing him.

Bruce doesn’t laugh but he exudes an aura of smug satisfaction that sets Jason’s teeth on edge.

“Stop this! Fuck! You wanna try and fuck me? Huh? Think I’m gonna be your little frail damsel and swoon for you? _Fuck you_ , old man! Gimme your stupid fucking dick!”

He leans up, ignoring the amused tilt of Bruce’s mouth and reaches underneath himself to slap his hand away and grab his cock. He’ll probably berate himself later about playing directly into B’s hands, but goddamn he’s gotten him all hot and bothered and he wants to see it _through_ now.

“Easy,” Bruce cautions. Jason bares his teeth at him and growls like an animal. He puts the cock against his wet hole, staring defiantly into Bruce’s eyes as he tries to force himself down on it and keep his face as neutral as possible.

That… doesn’t last long, of course. B’s cock stretches him. And stretches him. And _stretches_ him.

“Oh God… fuck…” Jason lets his head fall forward, his attention focused on the way Bruce’s cock seems to flare impossibly wide, opening him up like nothing before. His abdomen bursts with warmth, muscles pulling tight, then relaxing again as his body fights to both stop the intrusion and also just slide it deeper into himself.

Bruce’s hands are on his thighs, slowly rubbing them up and down in a soothing rhythm. He’s maybe even talking to him again, but Jason is completely ignoring that in favor for whining in relief when finally Bruce’s crown pops into his body and his rim can relax marginally.

Holy shit… Holy fucking shit.

He has to let go of the flimsy blanket and braces himself on Bruce’s chest, ignoring him completely in favor of looking over his shoulder and trying to catch a glimpse of what is happening as he forces himself further down on the dick. It’s a lot more easy now even though it is so weird feeling him rub up intimately against his insides and filling his guts.

The chest beneath his palms is expanding slowly. Bruce isn’t unaffected by this, either. Jason stares down at his face, slightly flushed and with a wet sheen across his forehead.

Bruce’s mouth is moving, but Jason can’t hear a word he’s saying through the rush of blood in his ears. It’s probably better that way. No matter what Bruce does, he has a habit of pushing all of Jason’s buttons.

He tries to fuck himself on B’s cock. He really does. He slides up and down a few times, a little uncoordinated at first before finding his rhythm, able to take more and more of him with every downward slide, warm tingles exploding throughout his belly and slipping into his extremities whenever he manages to do a weird little twist that has the cock slide against his prostate.

Soon enough, his muscles start protesting, though. His thighs are not used to the up-and-down motion…

Jason is panting, tongue almost lolling out, steam rising from his heated body. He’s so close… so damn close… but he can’t… he can’t keep this up-

Bruce grabs his hips and holds him still. Jason’s gaze flicks to him, eyes glassy. He tries to dredge up any inspiration to insult him, and nearly chokes on his own tongue when Bruce begins to fuck up into him, nice and slow; an easy little rhythm that only fucks Jason on a few inches of his dick and sets his rim on fire.

“You feel so good,” Bruce croons. Jason clenches his eyes shut as if that would make him not hear what the bastard is saying. “I’ve really enjoyed our last few encounters. And I really enjoy this here. You feel perfect on my cock, Jason… I would love to… do this. Again.”

He keeps Jason from answering by jerking into him, making him hiccup instead of throwing some inane insult against his head.

“Don’t be a stranger. My balcony door will always be open for you. I can do this to you whenever you like. Get your belly nice and warm…”

He reaches up, grabbing the back of Jason’s neck and pulling him down against him, ignoring the weak protest while still fucking up into the warm body.

“Or I can sleep on my stomach, if you want,” he whispers into Jason’s ear. “Anything you want…”

This is insanity. But damn if Jason doesn’t want it…


	11. Geralt/Roach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt/Roach – ANIMAL/HUMAN TW – After a long day of travel, Roach and Geralt need some relaxation...
> 
> (Again: ANIMAL/HUMAN; Dead Dove: Do Not Eat)
> 
> Sequel: B43F13

Geralt has slipped into a near meditative daze for the past two hours of his quiet journey. Roach finds the way without him having to do much, if anything at all. Usually he’d just doze off a little to conserve energy, lulled into calm by her even, calm gait and the warmth between his thighs.

Right now, sleep is unthinkable. He’s been having a hard-on for a while now, dick pressing uncomfortably against the saddle and having shown no signs of stopping to swell any time soon. That happens sometimes. It’s just that he has somewhere to be and he doesn’t want to stop to early…

Roach’s gait has become even smoother as if realizing his predicament. He sighs deeply and briefly brushes a few fingers against her neck.

“Good girl.”

One of her ears flicks back at his grunt before rotating back to the front.

He sits up a bit straighter, blinking away the glaze from his eyes, paying more attention to his surroundings and less to his cock pulsing thick and warm in his britches, pressing against the seam as if trying to break out.

“There.” He lightly nudges her in the side with his calf, coaxing her off the beaten track and into the woods. Moments later he can finally slide out of the saddle, face pulling into a brief grimace before smoothing out into his customary frown once more.

He unlatches the saddle and slides it from her back, hand brushing over the freed space to check everything is in order. It is peaceful just with the two of them and nothing moving about. There are not even birds to be heard in this godforsaken part of the land; just Roaches calm, deep breaths and the sound of her hoofs on the forest floor as she wanders around a little to look for some snacks.

Geralt always has one eye on her as he puts together a small fire pit and ignites the dry branches inside. He has Roach’s back just as much as she has his.

Her tail swishes. He pauses with the fire and stares. As he watches, she lifts her tail up coquettishly, giving mere glimpses of her cunt underneath. He huffs, sucking on his teeth. He nudges at the fire just to make sure it is not going to die on him, then stands and starts to finally open his way too tight britches.

“Fuck… alright. C’mere, Roach. Good girl…”

.o.

There’s a felled tree that he uses to boost his height. Roach has put herself in front of it without needing to be prompted, her tail lifted again and ears pricked with interest. She looks like a foal once more, dancing on the spot as he rubs his palms over her croup and down her warm thighs.

He grabs her tail, lifting it to the side and bending it over to hold it out of the way against her croup.

Roach’s cunt is black and glistening, the thick lips looking velvety soft. Geralt grabs his cock by the base and goes up on the balls of his feet so he can easily drag the tip along her gash, gathering the slick there.

Roach makes a low almost grunting sound. She lowers her neck and huffs warm against the forest floor as she patiently waits for it.

Geralt slowly nudges his way between the fleshy labia. They seal around him, enclosing him hot like a particularly soft mouth. It’s so easy to slowly rock his way inside her; easy ruts of his hips having him slip deeper and deeper without a hitch. He’s got a big cock but nothing compared to an actual stud.

Still, Roach starts to arch her back, bearing down on it and making her plump pussy lips gape a bit just for his enjoyment. She flirts with him as if he were one of her kind. There truly is nothing like the love between a horse and its master…

There’s nothing around them to curb his enjoyment as Geralt lets his head fall back. He closes his eyes, hands pressed against Roach’s warm ass, keeping her tail pinned underneath his palm to have his unhindered access to her slippery cunt.

He’s never felt anything like it. Human women can’t compare to the sheer heat and softness around him. She takes him without complaint, at times even bored as he rocks into her to combat the horniness on lonely roads.

Roach huffs against the ground, her muscles trembling beneath Geralt’s fingers when she bears down once more, blinking her cunt open around his cock. Coquettish, slutty little mare…

Geralt bares his teeth at nothing in particular. There are no pictures behind his closed eyelids; nobody he is fantasizing about as he fucks his own horse in the middle of nowhere. He doesn’t _need_ to fantasize about anybody. There are no pretenses here… they are two animals fucking.

Geralt’s cock flexes, pressing into the squishy insides of Roach’s hot pussy. He curls his back, leaning over her ass, hips briefly losing their rhythm before starting up a faster, harder rhythm. He smacks against Roach’s ass with a near brutal force. The mare actually takes half a step forward before she starts to lean back and into it, letting him use her pussy, his balls smacking against her thick cunt lips.

The quiet of the forest is filled now with the low grunts of exertion Geralt makes, and the wet smacks of his balls against Roach’s cunt.

He won’t be sated by just this, he can already tell. Just one round won’t do. He’s been pent up for much longer than those past few agonizing hours in the saddle, and his balls feel like grapefruits swinging between his thighs, pulling on the skin around the base of his shaft. The ache from it is just adding to the fire in his stomach. The need to pump her full and drag an orgasm out of her afterwards as he waits for his body to cool down enough for another round.

The thought has him pause for a moment, just leaning over Roach’s ass, panting, listening to her low grunts. His cock is not enough for her to get her off, but it is enough to _tease_ her, at the very least. Her cunt working around his unmoving dick causes wet smacking sounds; a greedy mouth suckling and trying to coerce him into coming.

Geralt inhales deeply and straightens up a little. His limbs prickle, orgasm just at the edge of his awareness. It won’t take long now… But he can take his time. They’ve come a long way today; they can enjoy themselves plenty.

He reaches down, fingers dragging along her gash beneath his cock until he finds the hidden swell of her clit. Thrumming his fingers against it, he can feel Roach quivering. She suddenly lifts her head, alert and interested, turning to peer behind herself.

Geralt can’t help but laugh softly.

“Yeah… I won’t forget you, Roach. Good girl. Nice and still now…”

They’d both get theirs, tonight.

His finger keeps dragging in tight rounds over her clit, feeling it swell against him. It only needs a bit of encouragement until it pokes out from the apex of her folds all on its own, slick with her juices and pulsing against his teasing fingers in time with her heart beat.

She starts to bear down on him again, more insistent now. Greedy. Oh, she wants it. She wants it badly.

Good girls like her always get what they want.


	12. Reaper/Soldier76

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper/Soldier76 – pre-negotiated non-con; slut shaming/dirty talk/degrading; stink kink/sweat kink; Gabriel Reyes’ fat breeder balls; short mention of spitting and pissing – Jack doesn’t need a lot of finesse usually but this time he’s asked Gabriel for something special...

Jack stands in front of Gabriel’s desk like an underling. His hands have been shaking, so he hid them behind his back as he waits for Gabriel’s reply.

“Hmm… you sure about that, Jackie?” Gabriel drawls, making a show out of looking his old friend up and down before his heavy gaze settles on Jack’s flushed face. He’s starting to sweat, too; a fine sheen covering his skin. He looks like he’d rather have the ground open up and swallow him than be subjected to Gabriel gloating and dragging this whole affair out far more than it would need to be.

It’s just part of what makes this request so delicious.

Jack slowly nods. He’s not looking directly at Gabriel. This is fun… he’s never seen Jack this nervous about requesting a sexual favor. He wonders…

“Ask me again. Say it nice and loud. None of that mumbling nonsense.” He leans back in his chair, making it creak, hands folded on his stomach. He has to spread his legs just to ease the pressure on his interested cock.

Jack groans softly. He drags a hand over his face and breathes into the palm to steady himself, then takes it away and says to the ceiling: “I want you to gag me with one of your old jocks. And fuck me. Against my will.”

There’s only the slightest waver to his gruff voice; Gabriel is reluctantly impressed by him. Always so courageous…

“Hmmn… nasty slut. Alright, then. I’ll let you know when the time comes.” He smiles a little. “Or not. That’s the point of it, isn’t it?”

.o.

As promised, Gabriel doesn’t warn him before he slips into Jack’s rooms. He had hoped he’d find him sleeping, but it’s even better than that: He’s in the bathroom just getting out of the shower.

Gabriel sometimes really is lucky.

He watches him through the crack in the door as he starts to undress and gets into his headspace. He pulls a face when he can finally hook his thumbs into the elastics of his jockstrap and peel the moist fabric off his cock.

He’s not usually someone who enjoys being nasty – like, say, McCree. So running around all day sweaty and stinking has not really been his definition of exciting, but having his dick out now, junk swinging heavily between his thighs, watching as his unsuspecting victim leans close to the mirror to check whether he should shave before going to bed or not…

It kind of gets him going. Really fast.

He inhales deeply, the sweaty jock balled in his fist. He rolls his shoulders, loosening his muscles – and then kicks the door open.

.o.

The honest shock in Jack’s blue eyes when Gabriel assaults him is something he will never forget, he thinks. It’s a little shameful how excited it gets him to wrestle him against the sink and feel that for just a hand full of seconds Jack is honestly fighting back before his brain kicks in and he realizes what is happening.

He still fights, but it is a lot of show and no real substance. Gabriel hooks his arms easily beneath Jack’s, hand pressing the sweaty jockstrap against his lover’s nose and mouth while he shushes right against his ear.

“Easy now… fuck, calm down, baby. Inhale… there you go… nasty bitch. I’ve been watching you for a while now.” He presses a kiss behind Jack’s ear; the skin is very hot against his lips. “I’ve seen how much you need a good dicking. Just hold nice and still.”

It’s not his best dirty talk; he needs to slip into it first, but Jack doesn’t seem to need more than that. He groans low into the fabric pressed over his face; Gabriel can feel the vibration of it in his palm.

Jack has always been a pretty easy bimbo to fuck and please. He’d be happy getting it in missionary most of the time; getting roughed up a little seems to push his buttons just as much as having Gabriel kick his thighs apart and tell him that he’s got pretty eyes.

Gabriel grins, shoving his hips against Jack’s ass and letting him feel his cock slotted comfortably in the crack.

“Good. Now… let’s have fun.”

.o.

It is almost scary how good Gabriel is at this. Jack knows they’ve negotiated this. That he’s _asked_ for this. But it’s difficult to tamp down on instincts when his ass burns from the barely slicked, fat cock burying its way into him, and his lungs burn with him all but unable to draw a proper breath with the reeking cloth over his mouth.

He feels close to fainting. Gabriel has him in an awkward Full Nelson hold that renders him helpless. All he can do is slightly lean forward, which only offers his ass up for more abuse as Gabriel grunts in his ear with the effort of fucking himself deeper into Jack’s weakly protesting body.

His belly is on fire with cock. He’s never… he’s never felt like this before. So helpless. So vulnerable.

“Damn, you’re a good fuck like this… you enjoy it, don’t you? Like sucking on my dirty jock, Jackie-boy?” Gabriel taunts him. His voice is so smooth and lilting… so different to the otherwise rough fucking he gives Jack, his front pressed against Jack’s back, skin sticking to skin, cock flexing inside his clenching passage and making the burn even worse…

Jack groans, low and guttural. He wants to shake his head, but really it only makes him bury his nose and mouth deeper into the sweaty jock. Gabriel is always so clean and good-smelling… That he really went the extra mile to do this hits Jack deep.

“Open your mouth, slut. There you go…” Gabriel stuffs the pungent cloth right between Jack’s teeth, and just to add insult to injury, pulls the straps of it over Jack’s head to keep it all nice and in place. The salty taste of his cock sweat explodes across his tongue and infuses all his senses, blinding him for but a moment to the fact that Gabriel is taking a tighter hold of him and planting his feet to-

Jack jerks with the ruthless thrust, his cry of pain and surprise muffled into the gag. In his mind’s eye he can just see it: Gabriel’s heavy breeder balls swinging between their thighs while he tries so damn hard to cram all of his meaty cock into Jack’s protesting body.

It’s not like Jack isn’t intimately acquainted with Gabriel’s junk; the warmth and the heft of it. The large testicles that he’s always kind of surprised even let him walk normally.

He can’t push the reeking gag out of his mouth even if he wanted to. He is at Gabriel’s mercy and all Gabriel does is add insult to injury.

“You’re just a bimbo for my cock, aren’t you, Morrison? Bet you were right down on the pecking order in High School – and you loved it too. Have the other boys step on your dick and spit on you. Piss on you in the showers. Hold you down behind the gym to watch you squirm until you wet yourself. You’d loved it all, huh? Fuck… Fuck, you feel so good on my _cock_ , Jackie!”

He presses his forehead against the base of Jack’s neck while he keeps dicking him with that massive cock of his. He’s somehow managed to cram the whole thing into Jack’s belly without much of anything in the way of lube. He’s fucking him, spewing filthy nonsense while Jack is gagging on the nasty jock stuffed between his teeth.

Jack feels bloated with cock. He is hanging in Gabriel’s Full Nelson and all he can do is try to relax his sphincter for the assault. Every now and then he can feel the brush of Gabriel’s balls against the insides of his thighs; they are probably swinging like a heavy pendulum. Full to bursting with cum…

“I will pump you full, Morrison… like those jocks back in High School. Pump you full and let you to tend to your nasty rape-slut erection all by yourself…”

Jack groans. He’s drooling into the muzzle, his eyes open but unseeing. He feels blitzed out, Gabriel’s filth ricocheting around his head. He’s heard him. He’s even understood him- but there is no way for him to stop his orgasm as it crashes over him.

Vaguely he can hear Gabriel cursing behind him; something about Jack being a stupid bimbo getting off on his own rape. It only adds to the fire that exploded in Jack’s belly.


	13. Genji/Hanzo (Shimadacest)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shimadacest – Genji/Hanzo – hatefuck; angry fuck – Instead of killing Genji, Hanzo fucks him into submission. (ca 700w)

His blood is pumping hot through Hanzo’s veins. The Elder’s words have made him anxious; they know precisely how to push his buttons, and how to tug on his reigns to get him to do whatever they want. He doesn’t want them to win; not this time… but when he meets Genji outside their estate, at the precisely wrong moment in precisely the wrong state of inebriation, he can’t keep it contained.

Genji grins at him large and sloppy. His shirt is buttoned wrong, dark hickeys littering his neck.

His pants are still open. Hanzo’s cheeks pound with a sudden angry flush. He bares his teeth in a gesture a lot more feral than he usually likes to show. He is the calm one. The emotionless one. The Elder’s words are still echoing in his mind, mixing with Genji asking him if anything is wrong with a slur to his words that has Hanzo’s hackles rise.

A red haze descends over him; he grabs Genji by the neck, his motions fast but unhurried. He is precise as always as he puts his younger brother against a wall and rips down his pants.

Genji, surprisingly enough, doesn’t say anything. His breathing is labored and wet from Hanzo pressing him against the wall of the estate. He probably has trouble comprehending what is happening; or he has to focus on not puking from the sudden motion. Hanzo doesn’t rightly care.

He presses against his little brother’s back, bites into his shoulder.

His fingers test briefly, cursatory if he is slick. It only fuels his anger when he notes that he is more than that. Genji is _gaping_ , his muscles loose and warm and well fucked from other cocks. The Elder’s words become louder again, their titulation of Genji as a ‘slut’ echoing in the forefront of Hanzo’s mind as he gets his own cock out.

He rams home laughably easy. There is no resistance, only the warm slide into his drunk brother’s body; fucking right into his belly on the first angry thrust.

Genji’s breath hitches; then he hiccups.

“Fuck… Hanzo?” he slurs. He’s not even sure it is his brother angrily fucking him, yet he doesn’t fight it off. He just lets it happen, groaning low in time with Hanzo ramming into him and trying to get a bit of friction from the loose cunt.

Genji is _enjoying_ it.

“Goddamn… God _damn_ ,” Hanzo hisses right into Genji’s ear. He is pressing him against the wall until Genji is gurgling and his face becomes a little blue from lack of oxygen. “I can’t believe you would _do_ this to me,” Hanzo continues.

His hips snap ruthlessly. He tries to get deeper into his brother, yet the position makes it impossible. He doesn’t have the patience to look for a place to bend him over.

“I don’t… I don’t-” Genji doesn’t finish his sentence. It’s easy enough to infer what he wants to say. _I don’t understand._ Of course he doesn’t. He never seems to understand.

Hanzo bares his teeth, eyes fixing on one of the hickeys on Genji’s neck. He should be killing him; instead he fucks his white hot anger out into his little brother and listens to Genji’s gurgling little moans.

“I _hate_ that I have to do this,” Hanzo hisses, his own breath coming faster now. “I hate that you _make_ me do this! Just… just _behave_ for once!”

He curls his arms around Genji from behind, hugging him now to himself. The position hobbles his movements further. He can only rock into him, producing wet little sounds from whatever mixture of cum and lube had been pushed into Genji’s intestines beforehand.

He doesn’t want to think about how many have unloaded into him. He doesn’t want to think how often Genji spreads his legs for common folk that are not better than cockroaches beneath Hanzo’s feet.

“Fuck… Hanzo… Hanzo r-right there-!” Genji groans. His muscles clench around Hanzo, squeezing down, desperately chasing his dirty little orgasm by his brother’s hand.

Slut. Whore. Dishonorable. Hanzo bares his teeth. He doesn’t _want_ to give Genji his completion, but he is chasing his own, and they go – unfortunately – hand in hand this time.

He growls when he rams deep into Genji’s belly, balls pulsing out hot ropes of cum.

“You will. _Never_ again. Go out and fuck strangers.”

Genji is groaning, tongue lolling out, a long string of drool extending from the tip. He looks close to braindead as he pants the wall of the estate.

“If you… If you do this again… I won’t…”


	14. Lúcio/Baptiste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lúcio/Baptiste – service bottom Lúcio; sleepy sex – Baptiste is exhausted and Lúcio would do anything to help a buddy relax :)

Lúcio glances up from his workplace as Baptiste finally slips out of his labcoat and throws it over the back of his chair.

“Man… you look fucking beat.” He straightens up and looks Baptiste up and down. The other grins, but there’s not the usual disarming charm to that.

“Yeah. That… doesn’t even come close, to be honest. I don’t know how long I’ve been awake… uh… what day is it?”

Lúcio’s eyes widen in alarm.

“Dude, what the Hell? Go and take a shower and go to bed!” He comes over, grabbing Baptiste’s arms and shoving him forward toward the door. “I’ll clean up here. Don’t worry.”

Baptiste laughs slightly, the sound rough and impossibly tired. He doesn’t even try to put up a fight. “Yeah… I might have gone overboard. Just wanted to get this thing done and one led to another an… yeah. Yeah, Imma go. Good night, Lúcio.”

Lúcio squeezes Baptiste’s arms and gives them a warm rub up and down.

“Sure thing, dude. Go and relax, alright? I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Damn. Thanks. You’re a life saver.”

Lúcio thoughtfully looks after him all but stumbling out of the labs. It hadn’t gone past him how Baptiste had shuddered appreciatively at the warm touch of his hands.

.o.

Lúcio can see Baptiste’s full lips twitching when he steps out of his bathroom and sees Lúcio standing next to his bed. He has a towel wrapped around his hips, held up by a hand that is noticeably going laxer in his dumbfounded shock.

“Uh… what?”

Lúcio bites the tip of his tongue. Baptiste always looks good. Really good. But he looks even better _wet_. His nipples are dark, delicious peaks that Lúcio wants to feel against his tongue. There’s a trail of hair leading down from his belly button, too. He wonders how sensitive he would be to getting it tucked a little.

Lúcio swallows the saliva suddenly flooding his mouth. He grabs the hem of his muscle shirt and pulls it over his head in one swift motion. When he can see again, he notes how Baptiste is staring at his chest; the tightness of his belly.

“Am I sleeping already?”

“No, no, don’t worry. But…” Lúcio smirks in the way he knows has dimples appearing in his cheeks. “I don’t mind if you fall asleep while I work you over.”

Baptiste stares at him expressionlessly and blinks slowly, brain visibly having to work through what Lúcio had just said. When the meaning sinks in, he barks out a little laugh and lets his towel fall completely unselfconsciously.

There is nothing _to_ be self conscious about, Lúcio thinks, staring at Baptiste’s cock heavy and a little wet as it hangs between his thighs. It looks as delicious as the everything else on him, the tip a darker brown than the rest of his skin, peeking from the foreskin. He wants to get on his knees and suckle on it. Then ram it right down his throat until he can feel it in his belly.

He doesn’t know what his face looks like, but Baptiste is laughing again as he makes his way over to his bed. He looks so damn tired…

“Buddy… I won’t say no to anything. But I feel like you gotta do all the work or something. I can’t do shit right now.”

Lúcio hectically pulls down his shorts and crawls onto the bed with him, giddy energy starting to fill him up and radiating in warmth out into his limbs, getting them nice and loose. It’s the kind of energy that is happy and nervous and jittery, and just gets him into a really really good mood.

“Don’t worry! I’ll take care of it!”

.o.

Lúcio’s insides are feeling so good; warm and stretched and perfect. Baptiste’s cock is rubbing into his walls, the curve of it enabling him to drag it against his prostate if he twists his hips _just so_.

It’s hypnotizing. It makes him want to just close his eyes and let his mouth hang open like an idiot as he slowly rides his friend and tries to feel how deep into his belly he can shove that big, warm dick.

But. That would mean he’d miss out on Baptiste’s face – and that… now _that_ is… wow.

“Wow,” he breathes. Baptiste hasn’t said a damn word since he started riding him. He’s barely even made any real sound; but he looks so… _blissed_. His face is relaxed, lids so heavy his eyes are just glittering, dark slits that are staring unwaveringly up at Lúcio.

“Goddamn…” he breathes softly, almost shocking Lúcio out of the trance he had fucked himself into. Baptiste’s large hand are on Lúcio’s thighs where Lúcio had put them at the very beginning. They haven’t moved an inch, but are now imperceptibly gripping tighter, the fingertips gently digging into Lúcio’s flesh. “Goddamn, you look so good taking my cock, Lúcio… What the fuck?”

It’s probably meant as a praising little croon, but with how exhausted Baptiste is, it sounds almost a bit wounded. Shocked. Confused. Like he can’t believe how good Lúcio feels taking his dick and riding it impossibly slow.

“You took it without a hitch…” His hands squeeze again, but stay exactly where Lúcio had put them. They don’t go wandering off; he’s just there for the ride. Haha.

Lúcio smiles. He leans forward, bracing himself on Baptiste’s broad chest. He can move his hips and brush a small kiss against the medic’s lax mouth in one smooth go.

“I do my best,” he breathes into him.

Baptiste falls quiet again after that, which is fine by him. He can feel the thick cock flexing in his intestines; pulsing against his gripping muscles. He feels so close… so ready despite his exhaustion.

Lúcio stops bracing himself and lies down on Baptiste instead, chest against chest, feeling the hard points of those delicious nipples dragging against his skin and rubbing his own against Baptiste in turn.

He scratches his fingers into Baptiste’s hair while he keeps moving his hips; pushing himself up and down along the warm, firm cock and squeezing his insides down on it just to hear the hitch in Baptiste’s breath.

“I like making you feel good,” he whispers back, directly into Baptiste’s mouth. He bites into his lower lip and tugs on it with his teeth. He can feel the warm gust of breath against the tip of his nose when Baptiste gasps as he comes. It’s without fanfare; no scratching, no screaming, no wild bucking – just a soft gasp and his fingers gripping tight the backs of Lúcio’s thighs as his cock starts to pulse out warm cum right into Lúcio’s squeezing insides.

Lúcio slows his movements into a crawl. He lets go of Baptiste’s lip and closes his eyes as he focuses on milking the man dry. It’s infinitely satisfying to have him come from just this, even though he knows Baptiste is just damn exhausted and couldn’t put up a fight anyway.

He sighs when he feels like the peak of the orgasm has come and gone, and presses a light kiss against Baptiste’s mouth… but the medic is already asleep.

Hmm… seems like he’ll just have to stay right where he is for the night, then. That’s not the worst outcome. Definitely not.


End file.
